Even though it sounds like a bad Hemingway parody, that phrase sums up this summer.
I’m not bothered much. It didn’t take very many summers in the Metro Phoenix Area heat island to make me a hydration fanatic.
Always remember that if you're wondering if you’re dehydrated, you probably are.
Also, believe it or not, on these extreme, record-breaking hot, dry days, you can guzzle water and not have to urinate as often as you’d think. The body struggles to cool itself, sucking up moisture like a sponge.
I also don’t hang out in the sun, and spend most of the time in shady, air-conditioned environments. Now and then I venture out to take pictures of the quiet drama of shriveling cacti.
More often, there are human bodies lying on the sidewalk. Sometimes the police are already there.
It’s like being on a planet unfit for human habitation. Don’t think we’re hurting the planet. We could make it impossible for us to live here, and it would shrug it off like it got rid of a pesky virus or parasite.
Everything is drying up, fading, burning . . . in . . . slow . . . motion . . .
Even the fantastic cacti are having a hard time.
It’s some kinda inferno out there.
But then, when compared to future summers, this will be considered cool.